Boy was flying.

Lance's dragonite shot up like an arrow and pierced the sky. From standing on solid ground outside the Oak Laboratory, to ascending high up into the clouds, then above them, Boy was sure he heard a loud snap at liftoff.

He gripped the dragonite's neck, held his precarious balance, and tried to check his alarm at the absence of reins. The pounding from his heart filled his ears, overwhelming, then he heard the rhythmic wingbeats of the pokémon as they soared away from Pallet Town.

Erina tightened her hold, both arms braced around Boy's waist, her eyes shut in utter disregard of the protective goggles she had on. When she set her eyes on the dragonite, she had suggested teleportation instead, reasoning that it would be quicker and safer. But Boy nixed that idea, because it was a freaking dragonite, a rare and majestic pokémon, and Erina glimpsed an inkling of the old Boy, eyes full of wonder, so she went along with it, albeit with some apprehension.

Lance sat behind her, one hand on his pokémon's back, seemingly unaffected by the rushing wind, only occasionally adjusting his weight. He wasn't wearing any flying gear, just his usual apparel, including his signature cape which was billowing behind him.

Adrenaline rushed through Boy's body, and the crack of a smile played on his lips. His first time riding a flying pokémon provided a thrill and a distraction. The wind whipped past him as they flew over Kanto, the dragonite gliding through the air at terrific speed. Boy felt some of his courage returning, and leaned a little to the side to look at the blanket of clouds directly below them.

Lance's dragonite responded unexpectedly by rotating slightly in the same direction.

Boy's heart was in his mouth, but he recovered quickly. He could touch the clouds, so that is what he did, letting his fingertips sail through them as they flew on. He pulled back his wet fingers and grinned. He'd always wanted to do that. He patted his ride and the dragonite rumbled underneath him.

They swooped left and right, flying in expansive arcs at great speed as the wingtips of the dragonite dipped into the clouds, leaving awesome trails as they went.

Boy was pretty sure the pokémon was showing off.

It all ended too soon. The expansive freedom of the blue sky had given Boy some time away from his oppressive thoughts, where he relived the memory of the horror that went on under Icefall Cave. Where he traced his culpability and wore it with grim acquiescence.

His dreams of adventure, of emulating his heroes, of proving the naysayers wrong ... it all felt, if not impossible, then out-of-reach. Their little joyride in the sky was coming to an end, and all that weight returned when he recognised the ground approaching.

They made their descent and the first thing Boy noticed was the large purple tower.

Pokémon Tower was one of the oldest buildings in Kanto, serving at different times as a monastery, a barracks, a communications tower, a school, and, most recently, a shrine for departed pokémon. It was a famous tourist spot, with many urban legends purportedly involving ghosts and evil spirits, peculiar unsolved disappearances, and other uncanny happenings shrouding the entire place in mystery. Boy shivered involuntarily as they landed just outside the Pokémon Centre.

He changed out of the aviation suit and said his goodbyes. He was still star-struck, having met two of the Elite Four in the space of a week, and it was every bit the experience of a lifetime, his tragic situation notwithstanding. The circumstances were horrific, so far away from his dream of meeting them in his League challenge, that he wondered if this was all just an elaborate fantasy, a nightmare which he'd soon wake up from. This puzzling mix of highs and lows kept him stiff and quiet, and he returned Erina's goodbye with a short grunt. Lance and Erina set off, and he was alone again.

Lavender Town during the day, at first blush, seemed like any other small town, with the ubiquitous Pokémon Centre and the PokéMart serving the few inhabitants that called it home. Boy could count the number of residential houses on one hand. Every roof was painted a shade of purple, every entrance decorated with a wide variety of protection charms. There were many jizo, small stone statues, a few with little towers of stone next to them, which reminded Boy of lost children and the lifelong sorrow of their parents.

Given its location, the village was mostly cast in shadow, irrespective of the midday sun shining brightly overhead, the morning fog hanging stubbornly in the too-cool air. The area was enclosed in a rocky hedge, almost like it was fixed in a pit... a natural ossuary, an open coffin swathed in a royal purple aesthetic. Pokémon Tower itself was wedged into the mountainside.

Though there were people about, a mournful atmosphere pervaded the town. Pokémon Tower loomed over him, and it held an air of creepiness which set him on edge, but he'd come to pay his respects for Millie, so he steeled himself and stepped forwards.

"Talisman, young man!"

Boy was startled by the sudden appearance of an old woman, a channeler wearing white robes over a pair of red trousers, but covered from head to toe in layers of paper strips, wooden blocks, large prayer beads, and other religious items.

"You need ofuda, protect charm before entering!"

Her wares rustled and clacked together as she moved closer. Boy caught sight of her yellow, misshapen teeth as she spoke and invaded his personal space. She was holding a large gohei decorated with zigzagging paper streamers, and brazenly tapped Boy's head with it in some form of a crude ritual, while simultaneously trying to hand him a small red bag.

Boy jumped back instinctively.

"N-no thanks!"

The churlish woman eyed him curiously, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. He'd already felt uneasy, and this woman was being far too pushy. Losing his nerve, he turned and scurried away, the woman shouting after him.

"Young man! Omamori ward against bakemono! Evil spirit get you!"

Boy turned the corner and let out a breath. All that talk about ghosts and spirits sent shivers down his spine, and he needed to collect himself.

He poked his head out, hoping the woman had given up and left, but he spied the old shaman persuading a couple to part ways with some money for a few of her knick-knacks. How entrepreneurial. Boy was not completely against the business of selling protection charms and the like, but here in Lavender Town, it just seemed opportunistic.

Though, yes, he was just stalling. He should go up into the tower and light a lamp for Millie. He should mourn with others who have experienced a similar loss, as Elite Lance had suggested. But the more he thought about it, the bigger the wall of grief became, an unimaginable sadness filling his chest, and with head bowed low, he turned around and walked away from Pokémon Tower.

It wasn't long after that Boy realised he'd left Lavender Town. The path in front of him led to Rock Tunnel, and unpleasant, still-fresh memories came back to him, about the last time he entered a cave and what was lost within it. His expression darkened, jaw set as he wallowed in his pain. Well, there was something alluring about becoming lost in the pitch black. A morbid, stray thought quickly quelled by deciding to climb the rocky mountain instead.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He did not have a plan or idea in mind as he traversed the rough terrain. He just climbed, slow and steady. Some pieces of rock tumbled down as he dislodged them on his way up, but the precarious nature of his ascent did not bother him. If there was a goal, there was just the next ridge to conquer. It felt familiar, something simple he could do without much thought.

So when the irregular line he'd traced through the mountain range had him stumble upon a grave site, it would have been surprising on its own if not for there also being someone sitting there. Boy nearly lost his footing, but managed to hold on by displacing some of the outcropping that fell very close to the man cross-legged and praying.

The man must have noticed him, but continued with his prayer, one hand raised with fingers pointing straight up – almost like a martial artist would do – while the other rested on his knee and with his eyes closed, concentrating, still as a statue. Any word of apology fell from Boy's lips.

"Come," the man said, his voice gruff but without rebuke. Boy quietly joined the man, and watched as he washed the featureless gravestone. There were just the sounds of the ladel, the pail, and the water, a sombre reverence permeating the air. The man, wearing a traditional haori, lit a few incense sticks and bowed his head, clasped his hands together, and said another prayer.

"We have an unexpected guest today, Sachiko." The man smiled, facing Boy for the first time. The smile was genuine, and as Boy met his eyes, he thought he looked familiar – and then Boy realised who he was.

"Elite Bruno, I-I-I am terribly sorry–"

Bruno waved the words away, and continued his conversation with the gravestone.

"It's already been another year, huh? I've been keeping busy, as you asked. There's plenty to do at the League, and the last Champion Gauntlet was exceptional. It has been a long time since I felt challenged, and I enjoyed it.

"Brawly is still trying to get me over to his part of the world," Bruno chuckled, "but you know me, I prefer to remain on dry land. I think he's getting a bit desperate though, he keeps mentioning sea shells or something. Doesn't matter, you won't see me on a surfboard, ever!"

The fighting-type specialist and second member of the Elite Four chatted away with his dearly departed, and Boy now understood why he was absent during the meeting back at the Oak Laboratory.

Bruno's public persona involved raw strength and power, and he was an imposing figure especially because he put his large, toned, and muscular body on display in every match. His exaggerated bravado and fearlessness was one of his hallmarks, and he was always shirtless, but today he was fully clothed, sans his wrist and ankle weights, and his hair was tamed and slicked back.

It was a side to Elite Bruno that Boy did not feel he had a right to see, but the man seemed unfazed by his presence, and there was a knowing look from him that put him at ease. They had both suffered a great loss, and if Boy was being completely honest, it was probably written clearly on his face.

Bruno unwrapped something, a bento box. With great care and consideration, he apportioned the food into three servings, placing one at the gravestone, one in front of Boy, and one for himself. He repeated the gesture after pouring three small cups of water.

Boy still felt like an intruder, but Bruno produced hashi and looked at him expectantly. He accepted the chopsticks and bowed his head as Bruno uttered another prayer. They ate in silence as the clouds bore passage on the winds through the afternoon sky.

Bruno sighed. "It's been hard without you, you know. Not a day goes by without me thinking of you, and I still expect to see you sometimes, but then it hits me and I become a little morose. I used to become terribly upset, and I could see you with your hand on your hip, chastising me, and so I chastise myself... but I've come to realise that it's okay. It's okay, it's a normal part of the grieving process, and I should allow myself to feel it."

Boy felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He looked straight ahead, beyond the gravestone, out across the mountainside. A hand rested on his shoulder, compassion he didn't know he needed until that very moment. Memories of Millie the lapras came unbidden.

"It's funny, you always said I was smart, and the muscles and fighting were just for show... and you were right, as usual. It's natural to try to be strong, to keep this vulnerability hidden behind a façade, but once I felt my sadness, I was able to see it in others, too. Offer support, and in doing so, help myself. You taught me that, Sachiko. You're the smart one."

The words felt like a balm to Boy. Of all the complex emotions warring inside of him, grief was the one he'd struggled to bury deep down. This unexpected comfort from one of the world's most stout-hearted trainers had dislodged a mental impasse within him.

Bruno finished his soliloquy, and they both stood up.

His strategy of avoidance was doing more harm than good. Grief affects every person differently; for Boy, he'd been gripped by a deep regret that kept him sullen and passive, uncharacteristic of him and more so, afraid. Afraid to face the prevailing reality, and afraid to let go. Millie was gone, but he was still here, and some part of him thought that accepting that fact would tarnish her memory. His resigned attitude left him stuck in a mire, but with this little detour he now knew more than ever, this was no way to honour her memory.

He bowed low and thanked Elite Bruno for helping him, and hastened back to Lavender Town and Pokémon Tower. The sunset was just beginning, the blue and violet sky giving way to a burnt, orange hue and red-tinged clouds. Boy entered Pokémon Tower, relieved that the old shaman woman had left, and followed the signs to the fifth level, where trainers lit lamps for their departed pokémon.

He passed through various gravesites, some with plain stones, or adorned with engravings, photos, and other tokens of remembrance. Pokéballs, affixed in expanded form to the gravestone, flowers, and little bento boxes. Hewn into the walls were little crypts and reliquaries, holding small urns or vases. There were other, larger graves, a few approaching the size of a mausoleum, where entire lineages of pokémon, passed down through a family, were laid to rest.

Pokémon Tower was hooked up to the power grid, but it was disconnected during its conversion into a shrine. Every burial place was illuminated by a clay lamp, palm-sized and containing oil with cotton wicks, tended to by the staff and ever-burning. Rows and rows of tiny, eager flames providing little radiance on their own, but together their glow delivering enough to see by.

Boy stepped through the gloom, ignoring the chill in the air. This high up, and with the town nestled in the mountains, it made sense that it was a bit nippy in here, but as he crossed over to the far end of the floor, an egregious chill swept over him, arresting him for a long moment.

What was that?

Figuring it was nothing, he shook the spooky feeling off and found the area specially designated for mourners lighting temporary lamps for their lost companions. The area was vacant, so he picked a spot in the centre and knelt on the frayed straw mat and sighed.

Thinking of Millie still hurt, but Boy allowed himself to feel it while busying his hands, preparing a light brown clay lamp, rolled white cotton wick, and pale yellow oil. He lit the long, thin matchstick and shared the fire with the lamp, his eyes fixed on the newborn flame as his mind cast back to his adventures with his starter.

Millie was – was: how could a single word hold so much meaning? – his starter, he fully accepted that now.

"Millie, my lapras, my starter, my friend. I am so very sorry about what happened. I miss you more than words can express."

The image of Millie frozen in the ice flashed through his mind, and his lips trembled involuntarily. Boy took a deep, calming breath, allowing the memory to play out.

With the match still burning, Boy lit a few incense sticks and snuffed it out as tears fought to squeeze out of his eyes, but he shut them tight and clapped his hands together and prayed.

"I hope you are happy and safe, wherever you are. Even though you are gone, you are loved, and you won't be far from my thoughts. Rest now, I will finish what we started."

Boy sat there in silence, gazing at the lamp for a long time. Relief filled his heart, a weight not exactly lifted, but lighter, and a burden that felt a little more bearable. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he resolved to thank Elites Lorelei, Lance, and Bruno when he next saw them.

The incense sticks burned down to nothing, and Boy got up. He bowed in farewell, and as he left, he felt his confidence returning, though tinged still with sorrow. It would take a little more time to process his grief, but today was a big step, and he was glad to have taken it.

Boy descended the stairs into Pokémon Tower's main lobby area, searching for the exit.

There were a lot of people and pokémon around, and based on the attire that everyone was wearing, a memorial service was starting soon. He stifled a yawn. He'd had a long, mentally draining day, so he wanted to get to the Pokémon Centre, have a quick shower, and get some shuteye.

He scanned the area, and noticed an old couple making their way towards him, a man and a woman, the latter being conveyed in a wheelchair. The man had his hand up, signalling him, and Boy cocked his head to the side, curious. The man was thin but well-built, and the woman, wearing a large brimmed hat with purple ribbons, looked strong and buoyant. He met them in the middle of the lobby while a large group of shrine maidens passed through.

The woman had a strange look of surprise on her face, and the man was smiling.

"Arceus above, it really is you!" he exclaimed.

There was something familiar to the woman's gaze, something that had long been buried, but was now slowly coming to the surface. A feeling that was thought lost and forgotten, an inkling of recognition that Boy realised was important, so he knelt, his face at the same level as the woman's. She reached out to him gingerly, and when she spoke, there was a delicate hope in her voice.

"Jintan?"